


Pushing Up Roses

by engel82



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:24:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engel82/pseuds/engel82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost losing him isn’t enough for Greg to realize what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Up Roses

When the doors of the ambulance closed behind Warrick and Catherine, Greg died a little inside. He stayed behind with Sara and Grissom, still stuck in the nightmare. Even now that they’ve found Nick, even knowing his friend was safe and taken care of, part of Greg still wanted to look for him. 

There was nothing left to do, and he felt restless. He felt useless. He wanted to cry; he wanted to laugh. He wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“Greg!” Grissom sounded irritated. “Are you coming?” 

Too tired to laugh it off, Greg silently followed Grissom back to the trucks. 

Greg was quieter than usual, his mind racing as Grissom drove them back to the lab. Every bump in the road, every turn they took; had Nick felt them when he was brought there? Had Nick known where he was being taken? Did he know they would find him? 

Greg couldn’t stop it. He could hear Nick’s screams; hear the sheer terror, the unadulterated panic, and it tore him apart.

_He’s safe. Nick’s safe._

He had to force the thought into his brain. He repeated it in silence, over and over again until the words lost their meaning.

Greg didn’t go home that night. He couldn’t go home. He stayed in the lab, filled his paperwork, and started working on the cases that had piled up while they were focused on Nick. That was his job, what he did: giving people answers; helping to catch killers so that no one else had to feel the way he did at the moment. 

And it helped: he didn’t think about Nick until morning came and Ecklie chased him out of the lab.

:::

The sky was already dark when Greg woke up. He didn’t feel rested; his whole body ached, and his head was pounding. He knew no one would be expecting him at work the same way he knew they would all end up there anyway, so he dragged his ass out of bed to the shower. 

Everything still felt wrong. The way the water hit his skin, the way the floor was too cold under his feet, the way the neighbors’ voices carried. Everything felt out of place. It got under his skin like fingernails on a chalkboard. 

It took everything he had not to throw his phone out of the window when it rang. Hearing Catherine’s voice on the other end of the line worried him—maybe something had gone horribly wrong—but she quickly reassured him and caught him up to speed on Nick’s state.

“They’re keeping him overnight. You should go see him,” she said, and Greg realized maybe it was exactly what he needed; to see Nick for himself.

It suddenly seemed easier to breathe; easier to move. He threw on the first things he found, dirty jeans and a semi-clean, light blue T-shirt, and headed out the door. The closer he got to the hospital, the closer he got to Nick’s room, the more nervous he got, and he couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t matter if Nick was sleeping or wide awake, it didn’t even matter if they had nothing to say. Greg just needed to _see_ Nick. Alive.

Greg lingered at the door of Nick’s hospital room. There was a game on the TV, sound off, and he could hear Nick’s soft snores. Not wanting to wake Nick up—hearing him breathe was enough—he walked to the chair on the side of Nick’s bed as quietly as he could. Greg lifted the chair to bring it closer, only to drop it to the floor with a clatter when he turned around and saw Nick awake.

Nick smirked, but didn’t laugh. 

“How are you doing?” Greg asked him.

“Lakers are losing.”

Greg leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on Nick’s bed and looked at the TV. “That good, huh?” 

They stayed in silence for a while, not really watching the game as much as they were mindlessly staring at the screen. All Greg wanted to do was to look at Nick, look at the bite marks left by the ants and see they were healing, look into Nick’s eyes and not see fear. 

“I’m alive.”

Greg realized he had been holding his breath. “Barely.” He glanced at Nick. “Sorry.”

Nick didn’t have time to reply. Just then a woman walked in, an apologetic smile on her face. 

“I’m sorry. Visiting hours are over.”

Greg nodded and got up. He started asking Nick if he needed a ride home tomorrow, but before he could finish his sentence Nick violently grabbed his wrist. The fear in Nick’s eyes translated everything he wasn’t saying, and Greg looked at the nurse.

“I can’t leave him.” He said, “Is there anything you can do?” He expected to have to argue with her, but everyone in the hospital had heard Nick’s story and she was no exception.

“Of course. I’ll get someone to bring you a cot, and will be right back with the Demerol.”

Greg sat back on the chair and Nick’s grip loosened a little without letting Greg go. 

“I’m sorry.” Nick said. “I don’t think I can—”

“Yeah, man. No worries. Obviously you’re gonna need a shoulder to cry on when the game is over.”

Nick sighed. “Thanks.” He let go of Greg’s arm slowly and the nurse came back, an orderly behind her pushing the cot. Nick apologized to her as well. “I’m sorry for the trouble. I’m just... not quite a fan of being asleep right now.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, injecting the medicine. “We’ve got people here around the clock. You’ll be safe.”

The nurse and orderly quickly set up the bed on the other side of the room and left.

It didn’t take much time before Nick was struggling to fight off sleep, blinking and forcing his eyes open, eyelids heavy.

“Nick...”

“I’m awake.” His head fell over his chest quickly before he reopened his eyes wide. “You’re still here.” Nick reached for Greg’s hand. “Don’t go, okay?”

“Go to sleep, Nicky.”

“Promise.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Nick’s hand relaxed in Greg’s, but he didn’t let him go. Greg watched over Nick as his breathing steadied, deepened, and Greg knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to sleep again. Nick’s hand was heavy in his, and he found himself terrified that if he walked away or fell asleep, if he didn’t watch over Nick like he had promised to—even for just a second—that something would happen to him, that Greg could lose Nick for good this time, and...

Greg swore under his breath and squeezed Nick’s hand a little harder. He had never seen Nick so vulnerable before. He’d seen him angry, yelling at suspects to get answers; he’d seen him after his stalker had nearly killed himself in front of his eyes, but nothing compared to this.

Greg never wanted to see the terror he saw in Nick’s eyes again. He never wanted him to feel this way again: to lose faith in their team, to stare death in the eyes and welcome it. His fingers slid between Nick’s, and it suddenly hit Greg. He never wanted to let go of Nick again.


End file.
